All you need
by Phoenix4
Summary: All you need is love. Love is all you need. R/H


Once again, to my few but precious reviewers. You are the reason I'm still here. 

J.K. Rowling owns all things Potter. I'm just a humble grad student with a bad case of insomnia.

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There's nothing you can do that can't be done

Nothing you can sing that can't be sung

Nothing you can do, but you can learn to be you in time

It's easy 

---John Lennon

It was the first day of the rest of his life.

He'd heard Bill say something similar to Charlie on his graduation day, and somehow it was one of those things that stuck. One of those pearls of brotherly wisdom that get shinier each time they're remembered.

Yeah right.

Ron Weasley stuck his big size 9 shoe into the loose rocks and gravel at his feet, and kicked.

Hard.

It was the first day of the rest of his life, and he had absolutely no cracking idea what the heck he was gonna do with it.

The rest of his life, that is. 

This particular day, of course, was meticulously planned, with drawn-out speeches and embarrassingly wet kisses from aunts one can hardly be blamed to have forgotten. Meticulously planned right down to the starched knickers his mother had laid out beside his freshly washed dress robes that very morning. 

Ron grimaced at the thought of a fully-grown, *graduating* young man, whose mother had taken it upon herself to wash and starch his knickers.

Up at the school, there were lots of flashing cameras, and colors, and people. More people than usual, if truth be told. It was, after all, Harry Potter's graduation day.

But down here, in the shade of his favorite tree, Ron was quietly going about being miserable.

Quietly, but not quite as alone as he might have thought.

"You shouldn't kick up the dust like that Ron, you'll soil your robes and we haven't taken the class picture yet."

Ron didn't have to turn around, although he did emit a strangled sort of yelp at the sound of such a close and familiar human voice. 

"Hermione, give it a rest, will ya? Just this once."

On a different day, Hermione Granger may have thrown a pointed retort at her friend's remark. She certainly wouldn't have suppressed the huff that rose in her throat. But today was no ordinary day, and Hermione knew when to make allowances. 

"Really, you should be happy, Ron. Think of it. No more studying. No more Potions tests. No more History of Magic essays. Why, it should be the happiest day of your life!"

"I'm happy", Ron replied indignantly. "I'm just tired of all the crowds, is all." 

"Ahh", she drawled deliberately, in her most know-all way, "Is THAT what you're doing down here, spraying dust all around your sulking tree?"

"My WHAT?!" Ron spluttered. 

"Your sulking tree", Hermione replied coyly, glancing at him sideways and fighting to keep the smile from her voice. "You know, the tree you always come to when you're being sullen and melodramatic."

He looked up quickly, but the fire in his eyes melted upon catching the glimmer in her gaze.

"I am NOT melodramatic", he said, with considerably less oomph than he had planned.

"No, of course not", Hermione grinned, kicking him playfully in the chin.

Ron rolled his eyes, glancing back up at the troupe prancing about on the Hogwarts lawn. He was aware that she had not risen to his bait, as she would have a few years ago. He'd been aware of it for some time now, how she seemed to even out those edges at the most important times. They still had plenty of scrapes, mind you, but they usually came at times when scrapes were actually needed, and he always felt lighter afterwards. 

She'd been reading him like one of her books, and not for the first time he wondered how long it had been going on.

Hermione watched him turn away to face the Hogwarts crowd. Somehow the air got thicker, and she drew in her breath, waiting.

"It was a good speech", he murmured softly, almost distractedly.

"Thank you", she replied earnestly.

He looked up at her then, and his eyes were suddenly deep and blue and serious.

It was that rare face of Ron Weasely. The one she imagined few people had ever seen. Where his brow softened and his eyes got bright and he looked like he could be 7 or 70.

"What you said about living our dreams....about how *being* our dreams was more important. Did you mean that 'Mione? WHAT did you mean by it, really?"

She took a step towards him, brazenly laying her hand on his arm.

"Something about how, deep down, we already are the people we've always wanted to be".

His eyes followed a path from her hand to her face, meeting her gaze and then looking quickly away.

She could feel the faint pulse beating underneath her touch, watch the way his eyelids fluttered, and examine the smattering of tiny freckles on his nose.

They'd been here before, half a dozen times in the last three years. Ever since the Yule Ball there had been *something*. Something that friendship and the increasing threat of dire peril had managed to keep at bay.

But dire peril had been taken care of. The hero had met his destiny and faced it down. With a little help from his friends, of course.

And here they stood, Voldemort safely good riddanced, and no Harry Potter in sight. 

Ron felt he should clear his throat, or crack a joke, or look away. But he didn't. And the moment elongated, stretched out to the point where turning away was not an option.

He tilted his head, and she smiled. And suddenly she was in his arms.

It felt oddly new, and so totally familiar, both at the same time.

She seemed to be burrowing into his robes, seeking a spot of skin to contact. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her.

He felt her cheek find a comfortable home just above his breastbone. He felt her nudge at his neck like a kitten asking to be petted. 

And he felt the softness of her breath on his skin as she whispered, "Not everything is going to change, you know".

Ron chuckled, pulling her tighter. "I'm Ron Weasley. I laugh in the face of change". 

"Right. Well, good then", she replied with her most Hermione air.

And then she kissed him.

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